


Heaven And Hell Were Words To Me

by fookinglousers



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, M/M, No Smut, Sad Harry, Short & Sweet, This is what happens, when I'm feeling some kind of way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-19 04:36:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5953858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fookinglousers/pseuds/fookinglousers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time he sees him is during study hall on a rusty autumn afternoon. He's got a cloud of chocolate curls that hang like a halo around his pale, snowy skin. He's devastating though, is the thing. His angelic face holds a crestfallen stare. But he's here and it's like Louis' seen the moon for the first time. He stands a beat longer, watching the angel from afar before he leaves. He's left his soul there, too, he thinks. Maybe the angel will hold it for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heaven And Hell Were Words To Me

**Author's Note:**

> So this is just, a thing. I was typing and this just exploded all over the keyboard.

The first time he sees him is during study hall. It's a rusty autumn afternoon, the sunlight streaming in through the blinds and across the old bookshelves, creating a little ballet of dust, dancing through the glow. He's just finished his Psych paper that was due, well, yesterday and he's stood up, books in hand as he pushes his mustard yellow chair in. That's when it happens. He's there. He's like a single ray of sunshine on a dismal, somber day. He's like that first breath of air you take after sinking underwater for too long. He's like that small piece of glitter you find under your eye, glimmering gently. He's got a cloud of chocolate curls that hang like a halo around his pale, snowy skin. He's devastating though, is the thing. His angelic face holds a crestfallen stare as he wanders to a far table, setting his old books down and hanging his orange bag on the chair before taking a seat, his long limbs curling in. But he's here and it's like Louis' seen the moon for the first time; the stars dancing around and smiling at him as he stands a beat longer, watching the angel from afar, before he hauls his bag up his shoulder and leaves. He's left his soul there, too, he thinks. Maybe the angel will hold it for him. 

_**//** _

The next time he sees him, he's in the record store, fingers dimly grazing the cases as his eyes search for the right sound. The bell above the entrance chimes and Louis lifts his head. He's here. His halo of chocolate is covered under a blue beanie, forlorn aura floating around him as he trails inside, pulling his forest colored jacket closer to his body. He seems as though he's in search of something. Louis is too. He watches as the boy pulls his pillowy pink lip between his teeth, eyes raking over the extensive collection of records before settling on one. His delicate hand pulls the case out, flipping it over to read. Fleetwood Mac - Then Play On. Louis hums appreciatively. The boy's dark brows crease, he seems to be on edge about something, and he puts the record back. Just like that, he's gone. Louis watches out the window as the boy disappears into the crisp, muted dusk, head down and shoulders bowed.

Louis grabs the album, staring down at it as if it holds all of the answers to every quiet question floating through his tired mind. 

**_//_ **

 

 

"Why do you always watch me?" Comes a gravelly, disembodied voice from somewhere next to Louis. He's sat in study hall again, eyes previously glued to the words that morph together in front of him.

Louis snaps his head to the right and he thinks he's gone to heaven, because there's an angel sitting near him, close enough to touch. He can't breathe. 

"I-Hello," Louis is confused. 

"Why do you always watch me?" The boy asks again, more of a low whisper. 

Louis stares at him for a beat, glowing at the fact that the boys' eyes are a deep, glorious emerald and he'd love to make a home of them someday. 

"Why are you so sad?" 

The boy doesn't break from Louis' own sea blue eyes, his hands are crossed in his lap and his beautifully gazelle-like legs are twisted together like a maze Louis would love to get lost in. 

"I'm not," The boy says, his morose tone conflicting his statement. 

"You are, though." 

The boy shakes his curls out and it's fascinating; Louis could write a ten page disquisition, including a cover page, about just that action alone and still have more to say. 

"Who are you?" The boy asks, incredulity dripping through his low timbre.

"Louis," He replies easily enough. "Who are you?"

The boy shifts in his seat, pale hands crippling together as he speaks, "Harry." 

Harry. Harry, Harry, Harry. Lovely, celestial, so, so devastating, _Harry_.

And Harry's just, _so_ , isn't he? He's just so. Too much and too little all at once. He's a puzzle that Louis wants to spend hours, days, weeks, putting together. 

**_//_ **

 

 The boy with the green eyes and the sad smile walks in and makes a place in Louis' heart. Louis, of course, left the door wide open for him. He's dark and enigmatic. Obscure and incomprehensible. And he's lovely. So, so lovely. He's magical and gentle and all of the things that Louis has been missing. He is half and Louis is half and together they are whole. Louis tells Harry this. Harry smiles his sad smile, shaking his head gently like he always does and Louis thinks he's just lovely.

Louis knows Harry's body like the back of his hand. He knows the outline of every inky tattoo sprawled across his canvas-like skin, he knows every curve and corner like it's his own. He knows Harry, he thinks. Harry doesn't agree.

"Why do you love me?" He asks one day as they lie in the grass of Louis' backyard, clouds moving overhead and sun shining dimly. 

Louis peers over at Harry, stricken by the question. What a question it is. _How could I not?_ He wants to ask. Instead, he gives Harry what he wants; a reason. 

"Because you are you." He replies, watching Harry's dark brows scrunch. "You are everything around me, Harry. You are my air, giving me breath. You are my sun, giving me light. You are my moon, shining in my darkest times. You are my stars, encouraging me on. You are my world; you give me a reason." And it's true; Louis feels Harry everywhere. He feels him in the slight breeze, caressing his arms. Or in the silent nights, hushed and understanding. 

Harry is silent after this, closing his eyes and smiling quietly to himself. Louis pretends not to notice. Harry laces their fingers together and it's a quiet afternoon. The air is still, autumn leaves around them, and Louis thinks they are one. 

 Harry is a puzzle that Louis wants to spend the rest of his life piecing together. He is the sun and moon and stars and air around Louis. He is quiet and devastating, calm and reposed, but bright and blinding all at once. He is Louis' own wonderful, overwhelming piece of art and he's just _so_ , isn't he?

**Author's Note:**

> ((((':
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr!](https://hansolostyles.tumblr.com/)


End file.
